I do not claim ownership to any of J.K. Rowling's characters, and I am not making any sort of profit from this. It's simply for a larf. Please R&R. Thanx. ~ZiMsta

Potions and Poison

THE LETTER

Genevieve Hemlock threw herself into an upright position; sweat dripping down her forehead. Another nightmare. She stood from her bed and moved quietly to the nearest window, desperate for fresh air. That was the third nightmare of the week, and she still wasn't sure what they meant. The first time the dream had interrupted her sleep, she woke half of the resting Gryffindor girls with her screams. It was always the same dream. She was alone in a frighteningly dark place, calling out for something. And every time, the same hideous image shot out of nowhere, with features that she didn't dare fathom.

It was Genevieve's seventh, and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had worked incredibly hard over the past six years, becoming the best witch possible (thought competing with Hermoine Granger was enough to give even Einstein ulcers). These dreams she had been having certainly weren't helping in her quest for a perfect score on her N.E.W.T.S. Becoming a great witch was all that was important to her. On second thought, that wasn't entirely true. The relationship she had with her father always made the top of the list. Her father, Harold Hemlock, was an amazing musician and had always been her greatest source of influence. She always had difficulty tearing herself away from those all too short summers at home, and return to her lessons at Hogwarts.

"Are you up again?" Hermoine's voice broke the dead silence, sending Genevieve's heart nearly out of her chest. She spun around to find Hermoine, her usual fluffy hair now in worse condition, and her puffy eyes half shut. "I didn't scream again, did I?" Genevieve asked, turning back to the fresh, crisp air flowing through the window. "No. I was only half-asleep and I heard you get up. Are you alright, then?" Hermoine asked, moving to stand next to her. Genevieve covered her face with her hands, letting out a groan.

"I've never had dreams like this before. Usually I can interpret them and find the subconscious reasoning, but this is a complete mystery. I'm almost afraid to go back to sleep." She confessed. Hermoine patted her shoulder and made her way back to her own bed. "Then don't. I'm sure the house elves wouldn't mind making you breakfast early." Her voice drifted off in a yawn. Genevieve heard her slip back under the covers, and almost immediately start snoring.

"If only it were that easy for me." She mumbled under her breath. She finally decided to take Hermoine's advice and go down for breakfast early. No one in his or her right minds would be up at this hour, but just to be safe, she pulled her robe over her sheer nightgown. She quietly made her way out of the dorm, out the porthole, and eventually down to the Great Hall. There was not a sound to be heard, aside from her own breathing and her bare feet creeping across the flagstone floor. She took her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, and a steaming bowl of porridge, along with sweet rolls and a tall glass of milk, appeared on sparkling golden dishes in front of her.

"Would you care to explain why you seem to think you are above eating with the rest of the students, Miss Hemlock?" Once again Genevieve was scared out of her wits as Professor Severus Snape's cold voice echoed across the empty hall. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for the source of his voice. He finally emerged from a darkened corner by the teacher's table. He looked as sour as ever, his oily black hair surrounding his gaunt, pale face, his black robes flowing around him as he approached her.

"OhProfessor Snape, sir. I just couldn't sleep so" Genevieve began to explain, but like usual Snape interrupted her. "So you lack patience? Have you never considered reading a book, or perhaps even catching up on homework that I'm sure you have yet to complete? Return to your dormitory, Miss Hemlock, and do not return until the breakfast bell rings." With a snap of his fingers, Genevieve's food disappeared, and all that was left was his distorted reflection on the spotless plate. "Five points from Gryffindor. Do not make me repeat myself, Miss Hemlock. And if I find you out of bed before due time again, I will make sure that there is a much more devastating deduction in points." He hissed through his stained teeth, glaring down at her with his pure black eyes. Genevieve was out of her seat by the third Miss Hemlock', and only hurried away when Snape was done glowering at her. She growled obscenities at him quietly, only when she was sure he was out of earshot.

Snape had always made her years at Hogwarts a lot harder that she would have liked. Gryffindor's were in an especially bad position when it came to facing Snape's wrath. Not only did he hold a nauseatingly turned cheek towards the members of his own house, the Slytherins, but also seemed to have something personal against every Gryffindor that crossed his path. It was surprising that they had managed to win the house cup the past six years, even with all the point deductions he managed to give. She didn't always understand, let alone agree with his reasoning, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. So she often found it best to ignore his tizzy fits, and avoid him as much as humanly possible.

*****

Genevieve dressed in her uniform and robes as soon as she returned to her room. Under Snape's advice', she decided to finish up some homework that wasn't due for ages, but it felt good to get it out of the way. When the other girls in the room began to stir, Genevieve knew it must nearly be time for breakfast. After that, Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, which took place in the greenhouse on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest. She only hoped it wouldn't be too cold outside.

She followed the rest of the house to the Great Hall, once again, for breakfast. Things were moving along like normal, until their meal was interrupted by an enormous flock of swooping owls. The mail was in, and Genevieve's owl, Olivia, dropped a letter right into her bowl of porridge, and then flew off.

"Cheek." She mumbled, wiping porridge off of her letter. She wasn't expecting one, but upon inspection, she realized that it was in her mother's handwriting.

'Your father is dead. Don't bother coming home for his funeral. His

Body was completely obliterated.'

~Patricia

She couldn't move. The letter fell from her fingers, and she might have heard voices asking if she was all right. But all she was aware of was a deafening silence and blackness closing in around her. She feinted, falling backwards right off of the bench.

*****

Genevieve felt a hand gently tapping her cheek, slowly bringing her back to consciousness. Her vision blurred slightly, three forms rapidly coming into view. Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting next to her at the edge of the bed. Madame Pompfry was busying herself with a washcloth, and Snape was looking on from the end of the bed. She wasn't sure why she was in the hospital wing, but then she remembered her mother's letter.

"My father" She barely whispered, tears burning behind her eyelids. Dumbledore took her hand lightly, looking down at her over his spectacles. "I am terribly sorry to hear about your father, Miss Hemlock. He was a great man. I knew him well. I only would have hoped your mother would have found a more sensible way of telling you. Her letter wasless than sensitive towards the situation." He spoke softly, trying to smile. Genevieve had a million things to say, but she was having great difficulty conjuring ring up her voice.

"How did it happen?" she croaked unevenly. Snape moved suddenly, pulling a Daily Prophet' from his robes. Without a word, he opened the paper and handed it to her.

HAROLD HEMLOCK: GONE AT 58

Harold Hemlock, one of the most famous musicians in the wizarding world, was reported as dead yesterday in his home. Cause of death at this time is uncertain, but it is speculated that he was killed by one of the renegade followers of 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Hemlock's wife, Patricia, has just released this statement:

"He will be greatly missed by his family and his many fans around the world. Unfortunately, I knew that his life as a musician would eventually lead to his demise. But he wouldn't listen, and there isn't much we can do about it now."

Harold Hemlock is recognized for such hits as I Can't Get You Out of My Head', and Do Lang, Do Lang, Do Lang'. His wife, and his daughter Genevieve, who is attending her last year at Hogwarts, survive him.

Genevieve looked at the picture they had added of her father. He was playing his guitar, singing and smiling like he always had. Her eyes then shifted to her mother's statement, her hands clenching into fists of rage. In one swift motion, she crumpled the paper and threw it across the room, her bad aim causing it to narrowly miss Snape's head. She was almost too furious to cry, her body ridged with anger.

"Genevieve, do not let yourself be overcome by this. You of all people should know that your father was not afraid of death. And you have to be strong, for yourself and your mother." Dumbledore tried to calm her with his even tone. "How dare she. She has no right to say those things. She never understood him. I don't even think she loved him." Genevieve growled, feeling more anger in her heart that she had ever known.

"May I suggest, Headmaster, that Miss Hemlock remain here for the rest of the day? I can provide a sleeping potion, so that she may recover from thistragic news." Snape finished, looking down at her with a quite unreadable expression. She looked back at him, trying to stop her trembling lip. "Thank you, sir. But I think I would rather carry on with my classes." Snape raised an eyebrow, seemingly shocked that a student had not only turned down an opportunity to miss class, but she had blatantly refused one of his very, very seldom acts of kindness.

"That's the spirit my dear. You are concussion free, and sporting a nasty, but non-threatening bruise. You have my all clear." Madame Pompfry gave her diagnosis, then bustled off. Genevieve lowered her gaze to her enfolded hands, trying to push back the tears that threatened at her lids. Dumbledore rose from the bed, and Genevieve slowly followed. "Please feel free to stop in my office, Miss Hemlock, if you ever need to talk about anything at all. Good day." He bowed his head, then left the room, Professor Snape close on his heals. Genevieve straitened her robes, then left the wing as well.